


Coping

by Purplefern



Series: Twins -- A Human|Squip AU [8]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: But I swear it's all, Christine Canigula Has ADHD, Christine being a Hamilfan, Coping Mechanisms, Dependency Issues, Dialogue Heavy, First time writing Christine, Gen, Human Jeremy Heere's Squip, Hurt/Comfort, I just love that about her, I'm Bad At Titles, Introspection, Jeremy Heere's Squip Uses They/Them Pronouns, Jeremy Heere's Squip looks like Jeremy Heere, Michael and the Squip are friends, Music, Not totally important, Platonic Relationships, Rated T completely arbitrarily, SQUIP headcanons, Separation Anxiety, Short Jeremy Heere's Squip, Some good old conversations, Weird computer BS, but i love her, first I had Adapting now get ready for:, is that not just canon at this point though?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28662552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplefern/pseuds/Purplefern
Summary: Jeremy knows the Squip struggles with being left by themself ever since they became human, but he's starting to think that letting this go isn't going to be the best idea in the long run.So when he leaves on a weekend camping trip, he suggests they try staying home on their own, just this one time. Knowing they can't be dependent on Jeremy forever, Squip agrees.That doesn't mean this is going to be easy. Squip's going to need a support group to make it through the weekend. So they call on the help of some new old friends.
Relationships: Jeremy Heere & Jeremy Heere's Squip, Jeremy Heere's Squip & Michael Mell, Michael Mell & Christine Canigula & Jeremy Heere's Squip
Series: Twins -- A Human|Squip AU [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701745
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, I’m alive! I swear, anything that isn’t a oneshot is my mortal enemy. After that very long break, here’s the next in my Human|Squip series, in which Squip deals with something that’s been a big problem for a while.
> 
> **Disclaimer: Please do not take my or Jeremy’s words on dealing with separation anxiety seriously. Neither of us are anything close to professionals, and I’m just writing this story for fun and as a bit of character exploration. Thanks~**

“You aren’t coming with me,” stated Jeremy sternly as he shoved a handful of clothing into his emptied-out school backpack, when the Squip had asked what they would need to bring on the class camping trip. 

The Squip looked at him from where they had been considering their dresser and thinking about everything that could be needed for a weekend in the woods, for both themself and Jeremy. 

“What?” they reacted, momentarily losing their train of thought. 

Jeremy sighed, but he looked more worried than annoyed, “Squip, you follow me everywhere. I don’t think you’ve ever been by yourself for more than a few minutes. You can be without me for this one weekend.” 

“But Jeremy,” they protested, “You’ll--” 

He cut them off, filling in the oft-repeated phrase, “ ‘need your help eventually’ yada yada. I get it, okay?” Raising a brow at them he added, “I really think you just use that as an excuse.” 

“But Jeremy,” they protested again, arms crossed and staring at him stubbornly, “I was coded with the sole purpose of helping you.”

Jeremy threw his arms into the air frustratedly at the reasoning, repeating exasperatedly “‘Coded’! But in case you haven’t noticed you aren’t a computer anymore.” He gestured at them furiously, stressing, “You can do anything you want! With any _ one  _ you want! You don’t have to stick around me constantly, and, honestly, I don’t think you should,” pausing, he took a breath and calmed down, thinking over his next words carefully. Fiddling with the straps of his bag, he told them in a more normal tone, though his expression was worried, “It’s just...not healthy.”

Immediately Squip wanted to argue, but Jeremy’s point was surprisingly logical and sensible. With a start, they began to consider that he may have been right. With their impending enrollment at his school, having a different schedule than him would almost certainly be inevitable. Somewhat embarrassingly, they also realized that he was correct about how little time they actually spent on their own. Thinking back on their experience as a human so far (and their memory was near-photographic as far as they could tell), they couldn’t recall a substantial moment that they had spent separate from their once-host. Even when he would visit at Michael’s house, they would make every effort to go with him. 

Jeremy was shocked when they replied, “You’re right” in a mildly surprised voice. 

“Huh?” he gaped in response, not expecting them to agree so quickly and having prepared for an entire argument. (It wasn’t like he hadn’t had similar arguments with them before about this.)

“You’re right,” they agreed with him, sounding more certain, “My independence is sorely lacking. If I don’t try to remedy this soon, I will be completely unprepared whenever I have to attend separate classes than you. Not to mention what could happen in the future…” their voice trailed off contemplatively at all that could entail, and they realized more and more how unequipped they were to handle any inevitable separation. 

“Oh, okay, yeah,” he tried to be supportive, glad that (for  _ once _ ) Squip was actually agreeing with him on the idea of being their own person instead of being stubborn and resistant, “Yeah, it’s important to solve this thing. And, hey, it’s only for the weekend, not even that! And it’s a Bio trip, so you know, I’ll be, like, constantly supervised the whole time. So don’t worry too much about me, ok?” 

Despite their nagging doubt that they were starting to have at the prospect of staying home alone while Jeremy went on a trip, they nodded. This had to be done. They couldn’t function as a human if they couldn’t be independent. This was necessary. 

Within an hour, Jeremy had fully packed his bag and was out walking towards the school where a bus would take him hours away to a nearby forest. Squip watched, trying to pretend they weren’t nervous at the prospect of the next few days, as he gave them a wave from the end of the driveway. 

“I’d say I’d call,” he told them somewhat apologetically, “But my teacher’s probably gonna take my phone away. And our crappy service might not work out there anyway. But I’ll be back early on Sunday, alright?” 

Not trusting themself to say something confident, and not wanting Jeremy to see how nervous they actually were (though a part of them was certain that he already knew) Squip simply nodded. 

“Hey,” he reassured, giving them a hopeful thumbs-up, “You can do this. You’ve got my dad if something goes wrong. Or I bet even Michael would help.” 

  
They scoffed at the idea of both needing Michael’s assistance and him giving it, then stiffened self-consciously as they realized that apparently Jeremy was  _ exactly  _ aware of how nervous they felt. Hoping still to hide this, they simply nodded in response (with an exaggerated eye roll for extra assurance) and watched as Jeremy disappeared towards the school. When they could see he was halfway there, his shrunken form walking across the stone covered lot next to the school, their posture deflated all at once, feeling something like a sinking dread. They were on their own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said before, this is probably NOT the way to deal with separation anxiety. But Jeremy’s a dumb teen and I need to have a story, so don’t think about it too hard. 
> 
> Since I actually have this story written ahead of time, I am going to _attempt_ to do weekly uploads. However, school restarts this week and I generally have no consistency, so don't be surprised if that doesn't end up happening.


	2. Alone Again, (Un) Naturally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh, oh, here we go again

Even with Jeremy just barely gone, they could feel anxiety starting to build, the quiet of the empty house immediately pressing down on them. In the silent space thoughts started to arise, empty echos and warnings of their old programming that still refused to disappear. Scowling at their own behavior, this pitiful weakness of not being able to manage an empty house for even a few _minutes_ , they shook their head to disperse the thoughts and decided to try and distract themself. 

Determinedly climbing the stairs, they went to the room they shared with Jeremy and sat down in front of their roommate's laptop. The internet should be a perfect distraction, they assured themself resolutely as they tried to push down the panic that threatened to build in their mind. 

But they had no idea what to search. After a while of various web surfing, they noticed that they had looked up the forest that Jeremy was supposed to be travelling to, with multiple tabs open about various wildlife dangers and local news stories from the area (few of them positive). They realized that they had been using the internet as a sort of replacement quantum processor, trying still to run odds on Jeremy-- as if they could guide him in any capacity from where they were right now. Thinking all of this, for the first time they also noticed how quickly their heart was beating, and how there seemed to be almost a sort of static sound buzzing in their head, yet at the same time they were painfully aware of how quiet the house was. They anxiously checked the time on the computer, and sighed when they saw that Jeremy had only left not even an hour ago. 

Annoyed at themself, they once again tried to silence their own worried inner voices, and force themself to see logic. Everything was fine, nothing was wrong, this was absolutely _pathetic_ behavior. They needed to pull themself together, dammit. 

Stubbornly, they went back to the computer, clearing all of the tabs, and resolutely looking up recipes online instead. They hadn’t tried cooking as a human yet, after all, and they were getting tired of Mr Heere’s uninspired dinners. 

Try as they might, the silence still worked under their skin, becoming more and more oppressive. No matter how they tried to distract themself, the nagging thoughts kept running through their head: _Too quiet, this is too quiet. This is wrong, where is Jeremy? No sound of brain function, he must be in danger. Warning._ Looping over and over even when they tried to shake them all off. 

Before they knew it their breathing had become harsher and their stomach churned, their heart beating hard. Hopeful that they had at least made it a little further this time, they checked the time once again, despairing when they saw it hadn’t even been half an hour. The oppressive silence was still very much noticeable, and it would be hours before Mr Heere came home and broke it. Desperate, they turned away from the computer and looked around the room for _something_ that could fix this. Ultimately their eyes fell onto their hoodie that hung inconspicuously in the closet. As disgusted as they felt at the idea of becoming so reliant on an object like that, they had to acknowledge the times in the recent past that it _had_ helped them in times of distress. It always seemed comforting when being human became overwhelming.

Reluctantly they moved to the closet and put the article of clothing on, looking over their shoulder as they did as if someone would see. They hoped the ridiculous article of clothing could help them once again. The material was as thick and sheltering as ever, and while that gave some form of comfort it did nothing to stop the silence, even when they tried pulling the hood on to -- they didn’t know-- block out the silence or something. The actions were too human and nonsensical for them to figure out why they were even doing it. Some...instinct, they supposed, just whispered that doing it would help them feel better. However, despite all of their attempts, berating themself, distracting themself, sinking so low as to get the equivalent of a comfort blanket, with every passing minute they became more and more aware of how separated they were from their human. (That was still how they thought of him, even after over a month. Their human, their responsibility, their purpose.) 

Still feeling vaguely sick to their stomach they curled in on themself on the couch, turning on the TV in hope of it serving as another distraction. This worked no better, since their mind kept wandering, wondering if Jeremy was alright, worrying about anything that could be happening to him that they should have been there to help him with. The thoughts started out as innocent as him forgetting something they could have brought for him, to images of bus crashes and getting lost in the woods without their guidance. For the third time since he had left not too long ago, they noticed their breathing speeding up again, and with another scowl they turned off the television with a decisive click. It was doing no good anyway. 

Bitterly they realized they were running out of options. Even their usually comforting hoodie did nothing to ward off the negative voices constantly running through their head. Voices which hadn’t been so intense in months, since that first week where Jeremy had had to help them cope. But they didn’t _have_ Jeremy here right now, and that was the problem. They needed to hear a real human voice right now. Any human company would have to be better than sitting in an empty house and working themself into a panic attack. 

They remembered then what Jeremy had told them as he left. They briefly considered the merits of contacting Mr Heere, but quickly disposed of the idea. He was at work right now, so he likely wouldn’t answer. Even if he _did_ they knew that he would leave early if they expressed their distress, and they didn’t want to be responsible for that. 

With a sinking feeling, they realized that the only other person that they actually knew (at least, that they knew who actually knew who they were and would be able to help with such problems) was Michael Mell. 

Michael Mell who enjoyed being difficult. And mocked them almost relentlessly. And was in general annoying to deal with and made them feel contrary. But if there was even the slightest chance that talking to him would prevent them from slipping further into panic over the next couple of hours, it may have been the best shot that they had. 

At the end of their rope, they grabbed their phone and did something they never thought they would do. They called Michael Mell. 

Typical teenager, it took a few calls for him to actually pick up, and each time they became horribly more torn between the two strong feelings of wanting to quit entirely and also hoping more desperately that he would actually pick up. In hindsight they regretted never telling him their number. He probably saw the unknown caller and didn’t answer. 

But they persisted, and by the fourth call in a row he finally picked up. 

“Hello?” he finally asked on the other side of the line, and they had to admit that it was a relief to hear another person’s voice.

But they couldn’t let Michael know that, so they leveled their tone as best as they could, replying, “Hello, Michael.” 

On the other side of the line, for a split second Michael thought that the voice was Jeremy, and he was confused why his best friend was calling him from some weird number. But then he quickly realized that the speaker wasn’t talking _like_ his favorite person at all, even if the voice sounded exactly the same. Which left only one person that this could be (unless Jeremy had a secret twin brother that neither of them knew about, but he cut that musing off before it could spiral too out of control). Of course, that made him confused all over again for a completely different reason, “Squip?” he asked. 

“Yes. Nice of you to finally pick up. Really, you can’t just avoid _every_ unknown caller,” they responded dryly, despite the fact they were rapidly growing more comfortable hearing at least _someone’s_ voice. Being able to hear _something_ meant that things were functioning properly-- that they weren’t broken and left abandoned and _useless_ unable to connect to anything… 

Their reemerging panic was cut off by the sound of Michael’s reply, and they practically sighed to hear his snarky response.

“Wow. Way to start a conversation buddy,” he informed them, rolling his eyes even if Squip couldn’t see that. If nothing else, that definitely confirmed that it was Squip calling. The question was why. So he asked them, “Isn’t Jeremy supposed to be on some AP Bio trip right now? Why are you even calling me?” 

There was a long pause as Squip considered how to answer. They must have been more clingy than they thought if Michael immediately assumed they would be with Jeremy. “He is. However, I did not go with him.”

Michael processed the answer, wondering what it could mean. Nothing about this fit what he knew about the Squip. He’d never seen them more than a few feet from Jeremy, and they had never sought him out specifically to talk. Carefully, less harshly than before since now his curiosity was peaked, he asked, “So you’re calling me because…?” 

The pause this time was even longer, as Squip struggled to decide what to tell him. They were hesitant to confess their moment of weakness to Michael -- they still harbored a bit of mistrust for him all things considered. But at the same time, they knew him well enough to admit (however begrudgingly) that at his heart Michael was a naturally kind and sympathetic individual. And Jeremy had seemed confident that he would help if they asked. If they didn’t tell him the truth, he may hang up, and then they would be right in the uncomfortable situation they had been in before. But if they told him, he likely would, if nothing else, keep talking to them. “It’s...quiet in the house without Jeremy or Mr Heere,” they admitted, their tone less level than they would like. Clearing their throat they attempted to explain more composedly, “I’m trying to overcome my dependency issues, but it’s proving more difficult than I thought,” they paused another moment, then adding in a subtly more strained voice, “You’re the only other person I really know…” 

On his side, Michael raised a surprised brow at what Squip said. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard them so distressed before. (Jeremy had told him privately of times they had struggled, and had mentioned that they weren’t actually nearly as composed as they acted in public, but Michael had never seen that side of them in person before. Now he was thinking there may be something to that claim.) “So you called me just because you wanted to talk?” he replied incredulously. 

“Yes,” they affirmed, their voice sounding no less strained. “I find being left alone to be very stressful,” they told him cautiously, uncertain if they could trust him with such personal information. 

For Michael this was all really strange. The Squip he knew had basically one emotional setting and that was annoyed, but now they just sounded so upset. Out of curiosity and sympathy he offered, “Oh. Well. Do you want to come over to my place?” 

“Excuse me?” they exclaimed, caught completely off guard by the sudden offer. 

“If it sucks being home alone so much, do you want to hang out at my house?” 

They immediately wanted to say no. For one, they didn’t even _like_ Michael, and for another, it felt wrong of them to spend time at his house. Hanging out with Michael was a _Jeremy_ thing. They had no right to be there. “It’s really not necessary…” they told him.

“It’s really not that big of a deal either way,” he replied and they could hear his casual hand-wave in his tone, “I’m pretty used to Jer just showing up anyway, so I wouldn’t really mind having someone over. I was just suggesting cause I thought it could help, but if you don’t want to it’s really whatever.”

They considered it. While it was true that Michael was far from their favorite person, he _was_ being incredibly gracious in response to their admission of weakness. And it would probably be better to be in the company of someone like Michael then to continue to stay alone in this all-too-quiet house until they spiraled into a panic. Even if Mr Heere would likely be home within another two hours, they couldn’t see a real reason to suffer when they could attempt to solve the problem. Really the solution was being thrown into their lap. “In that case…” they mused aloud, “I suppose I’ll take you up on this offer, Michael Mell.”

“Alright. See you whenever, then,” with that, he hung up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know with so many of my stories featuring Squip freaking out this might be getting repetitious, but I promise this is the last time we’ll be dealing with this. Hang in there, Squip’s making some new old friends in the next few chapters.


	3. Sleepover with Michael ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s going to be a lot of weird computer stuff thrown around in here based on my headcanons of SQUIPs and their relationships with their users. Regardless, this is all purely platonic. Here's hoping I don't lose anyone.

Shoving their phone into the pocket of their hoodie, and feeling more relieved already, they wrote a quick note for Mr Heere should he return home earlier than expected and walked the short distance to Michael’s house. (It was a testament to how stressed they were that they didn’t even consider changing to a less lame attire before leaving the house.)

When they arrived at his door, Michael’s brows shot up in surprise at their outfit. He was going to comment cheekily about them actually  _ liking  _ the hoodie he had bought for them as a joke, but then he saw their face and thought better of it. Most of the time the Squip had two expressions -- neutral and scowling. But right now they had less of a scowl and more of a strained and distressed frown. He knew already from the phone call that they could actually be upset, but seeing it on their face made it all the more real, so he just let them in without much comment. (Unless “hey” could be considered a comment, if that’s the case he had the comment of “hey”.) 

The walk down to his basement lair was predictably quiet and awkward. He never really talked to the Squip and they never talked to him, they just were both around each other because of Jeremy. (Not to mention the whole SQUIP thing. Even though he’d mostly declared that water under the bridge he couldn’t say it didn’t impact how he felt about them.) They sat stiffly on his couch, back kept ramrod straight and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Collapsing on the opposite arm, he threw his hands under his head and broke the silence, “Sooooo, what do you want to do, exactly?”

They shifted ever so slightly at the question. “I’m...not sure. I didn’t think that far ahead.” They hadn’t thought any further ahead than not being  _ alone _ . Now that they were at Michael’s house, they were wondering if this was a good idea. The fact that they had missed all of this in planning also served to remind them about their distinct lack of quantum processor, which made some worries for Jeremy’s wellbeing flare up. Trying to distract themself-- which would hopefully be more successful now that there was another person to aide in the distraction-- they spoke to Michael (a bit louder than was necessary, but they hardly noticed that fact), “I suppose we can just do what you and Jeremy usually do.” 

“Video games?” he asked, raising a sceptical brow, “I thought you hated them?”

They could only shrug to that. “I wouldn’t say that. I just have no real interest in them. They’re all too easy anyway.”

“Really?” remarked Michael, and as he thought he got an idea. With a mischievous grin he got off of the couch and walked over to his shelf of classic games, sorting through them to find the right one. “You wouldn’t say that if you played  _ this  _ one,” he told them, cockily holding the most difficult game he owned in the air for them to observe. 

They scoffed and his grin turned more wry at the return of the usual Squip attitude. “There’s no way that that game could prove a challenge to a super computer.” 

“ _ Ex _ -super computer,” he pointed out playfully. 

They had nothing to say in response to that, and he briefly wondered if it had come out harsher than he intended. But they set their expression and grabbed a controller, so he shrugged it off and went to put in the game. 

At first the Squip seemed intent to prove just how inferior the game was, and breezed through level after level, but as things went on, their performance grew worse and worse. He kept glancing at them throughout the game, hoping to figure out what was going on, but they looked as stoic as ever, barely even reacting to the game at hand. 

Meanwhile, Squip was  _ trying  _ to keep their focus on the game. The level wasn’t even that difficult, the AI was ridiculously simplistic and easy to predict (those pitiful computers that still ran on a  _ binary, _ they could hardly imagine), but even with company their thoughts kept instinctively wandering to Jeremy, and the  _ quiet _ , and wondering if he was alright. The longer the game went on, the more they got lost in their own head, and it started to reflect in their performance. They shot a glance to Michael to see if he had noticed, but his eyes were seemingly fixed on the screen. Internally they yelled at themself, they came here to  _ resolve  _ their stress, but they were improving nothing. 

“Jeremy would be horrible at this game,” they found themself commenting in Michael’s general direction. His focus shot over to them at the remark, and he scowled slightly and looked like he would retort. Squip didn’t even notice these reactions, their gaze fixed on the game and their focus somewhere else entirely as they continued on, “It requires forethought and perceptiveness, two things he sorely lacks.” They hardly noticed their grip on the controller growing tighter, their knuckles turning pale. “I can only hope that his lack of these traits isn’t negatively impacting him while he’s on his trip.” 

They scowled ever so slightly as they died once again, to something that should have been simple. (It wouldn’t have been the first time they had failed at something so easy and straightforward, they couldn’t help but think). 

Observing how tense they were (even more than usual which was saying something), Michael paused the game. “So, what exactly is going on with you?” he asked them with a slightly accusatory voice. 

Immediately they controlled their expression again, and consciously loosened their grip on the controller, tearing their fingers away from the buttons. Michael wasn’t a person that they wanted to know that they were upset. They had only come to his house out of necessity and a lack of other options. “I’ve already explained this to you,” they retorted brusquely, “Now, continue the game.” 

“Explain it to me again, then,” he replied, not even looking at the game at all. The two had a brief staring match, before Michael added, more kindly, “Look, you’re just acting weird, you know? I’ve never actually  _ seen  _ you upset like this before. Maybe I can help, but we won’t really know unless you tell me what’s going on.”

“Hmm,” Squip hummed to themself doubtfully. Setting the now unused controller on their lap they crossed their arms and tapped thoughtfully on the crook of their arm. Did Michael have a point? Would discussing their apparent separation anxiety make it better? They tried to consider what they would advise as a SQUIP, but came up with no results. (Not for the first or last time, they missed their instantaneous link to the internet and their quantum processor.) 

“It’s a bit technical,” they hedged, still trying to decide on the best course of action. 

“Try me.” 

Deciding that they may as well  _ attempt  _ to talk to Michael--considering that their current efforts seemed to be resolving nothing--they thought about their words carefully. How best to convey the way a SQUIP perceived the world in a way a natural-born human would understand? “You understand, of course, that SQUIPs are designed to function inside of a human host and achieve that host’s prescribed goals,” they started off at the basics. Pausing, they made sure that Michael was following so far, and continued when he nodded his understanding. Eyes boring absently into the distance, they reflected on their situation, trying hard to convey in words something that they hadn’t thought to make concrete up until this point. “In a certain sense, a SQUIP is symbiotic to their host. Everything we perceive, everything we want-- not that a computer can exactly ‘want’ anything-- everything we  _ are  _ is filtered through the experience of our host.” 

“I think, perhaps, that no human could really understand the  _ extent  _ of what that means. Well, no human, until now,” they added, gesturing to themself. 

Their head tilted downwards, staring into the rough material of the couch. “A SQUIP does not exist on its own. It is a part of a whole -- working parallel to their host’s brain to achieve the host’s desires. Like any SQUIP, my  _ existence  _ was Jeremy. Every minute of activation was spent surrounded by his thought processes,protecting his best interests, and making sure he achieved the best possible outcome. Now, however,” they shrugged loosely, “things are, of course, very different.” 

Michael, to his credit, was giving them the chance to work all of this out, not saying a word though he found all of this pretty fascinating. 

Meanwhile Squip seemed to have nearly forgotten about his presence entirely, their gaze still boring into the couch cushions as they continued, “It’s not...a natural feeling for a SQUIP, to be separated from their human, and yet that’s the position I find myself in,” their hands clenched, bunching up their pant legs as they reflected on their situation, “For a SQUIP, having no trace of the user’s thoughts can only mean danger-- that, at best, Jeremy would be unconscious and something would have to be done about it. Or that my own systems are damaged. Apparently being human doesn’t change these instincts.”

Unconsciously, Michael was sure, Squip moved their hands and dug them into their jacket pocket, curling in on themself against the couch. Their voice dropped lower and their eyes were completely distant, no longer seeing the room around them. “Normally I can cope with this and these issues remain at a tolerable level, but when I’m separated from Jeremy… it worries me,” their voice became even quieter, remarkably small-sounding for the usually confident computer, “Everything is so quiet, nothing should ever be so quiet and empty. I can’t be alone, it shouldn’t be  _ possible _ \-- it isn’t  _ right _ .” 

He waited a moment before saying anything to that--making sure that they were mostly done before he interrupted. “That’s not as impossible to understand as you may think. I can kinda get how you feel.” 

“How could you understand what a SQUIP feels?” they scoffed, arms still held tightly against their sides-- they hadn’t realized, yet, that they had their hands in the pocket. 

Michael rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help it, even when venting and upset Squip was  _ so  _ difficult to talk to. “You think humans can’t miss people? Or worry about a friend?” 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” they retorted stiffly, their teeth grinding ever so slightly as the boy understated and simplified what they had told him. 

“Really? Because this reminds me a lot of something I went through about, oh, three months ago.” 

They stiffened, realizing what he meant and expecting him to start yelling at them. But he surprised them when there was no blaming tone to his explanation. 

“You miss Jer and you’re worried about him. You’re so used to being with him that you don’t know what to do without him. I get it. Jeremy’s not my favorite person for no reason you know. Before you came along I literally did  _ everything  _ with Jeremy. And then one day he just disappeared, stopped talking to me.” 

He sighed loudly at the recollection, and leaned his head against the couch, saying emphatically, “It  _ sucked _ . Suddenly I wasn’t ‘Michael the best friend of Jeremy, half of a pair’, I was just Michael by himself, solo act.”

“But, even though it was awful, all of that  _ did _ make me realize that you can’t put all of your self-worth into one person. And even if they aren’t with you the world isn’t going to end,” he paused, thinking it over, “Ok maybe the world almost  _ did  _ actually end but that’s not really my point, here.” 

“Then what  _ is  _ your point, Michael?” they were getting frustrated from Michael’s confusing self-help talk, (and, admittedly, a little bit guilty from the reminder of their relatively poor actions while they were a computer) and just wished he would say all of this in a way that made sense. 

“My point is that there’s more to you than other people. You’re  _ you  _ and that’s important, too. And it was a good call,” (he couldn’t help it and huffed a quick laugh at the unintentional pun), “to reach out to me. It helps to have a support group.”

Determinedly, Michael suddenly got up from his place on the couch and moved over to his stash of games, taking out the one they had been playing and putting in another. Squip shot both him and the tv a confused look when the start screen for  _ Apocalypse of the Damned _ showed up. 

“This is yours and Jeremy’s game,” they pointed out, unable to understand why Michael would be getting that game all set up. Did he want to play by himself for a bit? He could have said so. But their confusion only deepened when he threw them a controller, which they only barely managed to catch. 

“No. It’s a  _ game  _ that I can play with whoever I want. Just because it’s special to me and Jer doesn’t mean that I can’t play with someone else, too. See where I’m going with this?” 

“I still believe you’re oversimplifying my situation, but yes. I understand your completely obvious metaphor,” they huffed, wrapping their hands around the controller nonetheless. 

The game -- and, Squip suspected, the catharsis of having discussed their problem -- helped to distract them from any further panic as the hours passed. 

Michael, for his part, had very little to say to them, outside of the occasional shouting instruction for the game (which was completely unnecessary), but they didn’t mind. With the combined experience of a long-time gamer and an ex-supercomputer, the two were breezing through the seventh level of the game when Squip’s phone rang. 

Michael obligingly paused their 2-player campaign while Squip answered the call. Of course, there were very few people that had their number, meaning that this had to be either Jeremy or Mr Heere. Either way, they found they were relieved at the chance of hearing from either member of the household. Michael’s company was appreciated, but he really lacked the familiarity that they were developing for the two Heeres. 

“Hello?” they answered. 

“Hey, bud,” they heard Mr Heere’s voice say,and to their surprise the man sounded concerned. They decided not to think about that any more than they needed to. Despite their surprise, Mr Heere continued obliviously, “I, uh, saw your note on the fridge, and it’s cool with me that you’re hanging out with friends and all, but it’s getting kinda late? You, uh, coming back soon?” 

It was clear to them that the man was floundering to appear responsible, and they considered critiquing him about that. Ultimately though, the idea was pushed aside in favor of formulating a response. Looking at the time displayed on Michael’s old tv, they saw that it was in fact past even dinner. They should go back. But they thought about spending the night in their room -- 12 hours of complete silence and no company to speak of-- and couldn’t say they found the thought attractive. They found they weren’t sure how to answer Mr Heere. 

Michael noticed the Squip hesitating, seeing their once again strained expression. It was the same look they were wearing when they showed up at his house. “What’s up?” he asked in a low tone. 

Holding their phone slack in their hand, they replied in a voice that matched their expression, “It’s getting late. I should get back.” 

Right now he thought that they sounded like that was the last thing they were wanting to do. In a brilliant moment of generosity (ok, well, after all the talking and stuff he had to admit he actually felt a little bad for Squip), he suggested once again, “You can sleep over if you want.”

It was actually pretty funny when the Squip looked at him like he was crazy. He wondered if that was the same look they had had when he suggested they come over to his house in the first place. They looked between him and the phone in their hand, weighing their options once again.    
  


“Squip? Buddy? Hello? Where’d you go?” asked Mr Heere, who was still on the line. 

Putting the phone back to their ear they replied, “Michael has proposed for me to stay over at his house for the night.” 

“Well, that’s fine by me. Not that you need my permission or anything,” he quickly added, knowing that he was hardly the teen’s parent or anything. 

“In that case I will,” they decided quickly before they could change their mind. They couldn’t help but smirk when it seemed like Michael had not been expecting them to actually agree so easily. 

After a brief trip back to their room to grab their other jacket and their makeup (they  _ would not  _ be going without that), and the ridiculous awkwardness of setting up a _ sleepover  _ with Michael Mell; they found that they didn’t regret the decision as they lied awake on the couch as the hours got later. With the world gone quiet, the error messages and warnings that they had been successfully ignoring for the past few hours resurfaced. They knew if they had been on their own, their thoughts would have quickly spiraled in the quiet of their room and they would have been up with worry the whole night (since they would never swallow their pride enough to seek refuge with  _ Mr Heere _ , that would have been too childish to even  _ consider _ ). But as it was, the presence of another person, and the reassuring sound of functioning human lungs across the room settled their nerves enough that they were actually able to get to sleep eventually. 

Now they just needed to get through tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have a lot of Thoughts on how intertwined a SQUIP would be with its user, and I hope I conveyed all of that clearly enough without super overly expositing?


	4. Let's Sync Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA Michael and Squip hang out at Christine's house

“You need to socialize, dude,” Michael told them as they sat at his kitchen table the next morning. They raised their brow the barest amount, finding it ironic coming from Michael of all people. He noticed their doubt and immediately added, “Okay, yeah, I know. That sounds weird coming from me. But still.” 

Well he wasn’t wrong. They really didn’t hang out with anyone. They should really fix that. Humans (even humans that used to be super computers, evidently) were better off with some amount of social interaction. They were knowledgeable enough about human behavior to know this, of course. (And Michael’s little message from last night was very much in their mind as well.) And what kind of SQUIP would they be if they couldn’t manage some basic social interaction? Of course, that didn’t answer how Michael planned to achieve any of this. Sarcastically they replied, “And who, exactly, would you propose I socialize _with_?” 

He thought on that for a moment, before replying hesitantly, “Well, I was going to hang out with Christine today. We were gonna watch a movie or something. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you came along.” 

They laughed at that, “No, I’m sure she wouldn’t,” they agreed. Christine. Well, they knew Christine well enough (they shoved down the air of guilt that threatened to rise, reminding themself that they had worked past that). It wasn’t like she was difficult to get along with, either. At least, not these days. 

So they hitched a ride alongside Michael as he went to Christine’s house. 

“Yay, Michael!” she squeed, opening the door after the boy knocked, “It’s movie TIME!” she shouted, but her excited (more like manic, to the Squip’s mind) smile toned down and her eyes grew puzzled when she noticed them standing in their chill posture next to him. Their usual black jacket was back on, and they looked over her doorway aloofly. 

“Oh yeah, you know Jer’s cousin, right?” explained Michael, stepping aside and gesturing at them meaningfully, “I told them they could come over, too.” 

“Umm, ok! Yeah, Skip, right? Hi, nice to officially meet you! I’m Christine,” she gave a small wave, hesitation quickly converting to enthusiasm. Because that was just how Christine _was_. 

They resisted the desire to say ‘I know’, instead casually nodding and offering, “I’ve heard a lot about you, Jeremy talks about you all the time. He has quite the crush,” they couldn’t help adding this information, and manufactured a winning smile to say ‘I really care about my cousin so I’m being his wingman for him because he’s too big of a dummy to ever try and make any moves’. 

They considered it a success when she blushed at the claim, quickly disappearing inside and telling the two over her shoulder to follow. Right as they walked through the doorway, though, their facade was dropped and replaced by a more typical scowl when Michael slapped them on the arm. “Dude, did you really just say that?”

“What?” they replied as they made their way down the hall, rubbing at the spot he had hit. (Ugh, pain was not fun.) They didn’t know what Michael was referring to. They thought that had gone fairly well. 

“This is supposed to be about _you_ , not Jer. You’re seriously working on getting them together? Again?” Michael was frowning tightly, his brows pulled low and angry. 

And that just made them feel angry, too, so they snapped defensively, “I can’t help it, I was _programmed_ to--”

“Well try harder, then,” he cut them off, slashing at the air sharply with his hand, “Don’t make me regret doing this for you.” They were going to retort, but the bespectacled teen was leveling them with such a serious look that they reconsidered. They just huffed wordlessly and turned their attention to their surroundings. 

To their complete lack of surprise, Christine’s living room was a disorganized mess, papers scattered everywhere and items shoved haphazardly into shelves whether they fit there or not. Continually predictably, the movie that was already chosen was an animated children’s film. They had to say, though, it suited the girl. 

There was a palpable air of awkward silence as the three teens sat in Christine’s living room, one of Christine’s favorite Disney movies playing on the tv. While the film ran, Christine couldn’t help glancing at Jeremy’s cousin in confusion, trying her best to figure out why Skip here (heh) was even _at_ her house. Like, she didn’t dislike them, but they really kept to themself most of the time. The only person she’d ever seen actually talk to them casually was Jeremy, and even that had some definite tense vibes that she wasn’t going to go sticking her fingers into. She didn’t even know that they were friends with Michael, but apparently that was the case?

After the awkward air had gone on for most of the movie, she grabbed the remote and paused it. She figured it would be better to just clear the air, so turned to Skip and straight up asked them, “Don’t you always hang out with Jeremy?” she thought that question over and quickly amended, “Oh, that sounded really rude, sorry. But like, we don’t really know each other that well, so I guess I just thought it was kinda weird that you wanted to hang out with me?” 

Squip tensed and their attention was quickly ripped from the sacchrine film. They looked at Christine -- typically innocently inquisitive--, and then briefly looked to Michael for assistance. (And tried to ignore the burning irony of having to ask for help on what to say in a social situation.) He, incredibly helpfully, just shrugged. “Well,” they attempted to explain to the girl while simultaneously searching for an excuse that avoided SQUIP things as much as possible, “Jeremy is away for the weekend on a school camping trip,” they hesitated, calculating whether or not to give any further explanation. Then they considered how surprisingly helpful Michael had been when they had told their problems to him, and they knew for a fact that Christine was even nicer than he was. (Plus she didn’t know their true origins, so she could possibly provide another beneficial angle of advice.) Taking a steadying breath, they soon attempted to elaborate, “I…” they struggled to find their words, while Christine was leveling them with an openly curious (yet empathetic) look. They decided that the most straightforward response would be the easiest, and recited with a clinical air, “I don’t...function very well,” they hesitated in directly stating ‘separation anxiety’, but were sure to give the euphemism considerable weight to suggest it was something more impactful than simple loneliness, “when I’m alone. The quiet is...bothersome.” They left it at that, though they could see Christine had many more questions on her lips. 

Despite her burning curiosity, Christine only gave them a kind smile, nodding enthusiastically and sending her hair flying around her head. "I can sooo relate,” was her sympathetic response, “I HATE things being so quiet! Usually I just make my own noise--”

The Squip grimaced internally at what they knew was Christine’s method of ‘making her own noise’. They still couldn’t understand how any human could be so uncaring about what others thought. They were certain they would not be using that solution.“-- or listen to music," they managed to catch the end of her sentence amidst their own train of thought. 

They hummed agreeably at that suggestion. Music sounded like a reasonable solution. It would certainly eliminate the noise problem-- or, rather, the lack-of-noise problem. 

Michael seemed to agree, snapping his fingers and saying, "Hey, yeah, tic-tac, that could totally work! We should find some music that’ll help with this whole situation." 

“What kind of music do you like?” asked Christine eagerly, excited at the idea of actually learning something new about the enigmatic teen. 

The Squip searched for an answer. _Technically_ they were pre-programmed with an affinity for hip-hop and R&B, but could they really say they _liked_ it? Considering the old explanation for “liking” something that Jeremy had given them a little while back, they didn’t think so. They couldn’t remember ever seeking out _any_ particular kind of music, so settled for just shrugging loosely at the question. Hopefully the gesture could be considered aloof rather than the true situation of literally not having a response. 

Her face dropped in disappointment, but that didn’t last for long. Both natural-born humans were quick to jump on the idea of helping out, and the movie was immediately forgotten in favor of suggesting their favorite kinds of music.

Taking out her phone, Christine took a deep breath and exclaimed, “ALEXANDER HAMILTON!!!” making sharp, vaguely hip-hop gestures. They couldn’t figure out right away what a founding father of America had to do with the subject, until combing deep in their memory and remembering Christine and Jeremy talking about the new musical while they were still Jeremy’s SQUIP. They weren’t certain they would like the music, from what they recalled of it anyway, but humored the theater student when she pulled up the album on her phone and started playing it. 

Halfway through the first song, they were doing little more than disturbedly/amusingly watching Christine enthusiastically rap her way through the number, with all the exaggerated dancing that went with it with her. Eventually Christine pulled herself away from it enough to look to her audience, hoping to have swayed them. She slumped defeatedly, music still playing on, when they only looked characteristically stoic, the only hint to emotion on their face a brow cocked ever so slightly upwards. Pausing the song, she sighed, “Aw, you don’t like it?” 

“Not particularly,” they responded dryly. 

“Ok, my turn!” exclaimed Michael, sliding across the couch and right next to Squip, getting out his own music (which earned him A Look, that he promptly ignored). “How about some Marley?” 

“Bob Marley? You can’t be serious, Michael,” they stated, immediately shoving him away from them. They knew that Michael’s music suggestions would be useless. “No.” 

“Boo” 

“Ok, umm,” thought Christine aloud, biting her lip as she scrolled through the music on her phone for something she thought Skip might like. What did she even know about them? Well, they definitely were going for an “emotionless badboy” kind of vibe, as far as she could tell, soooo maybe like rock or something? (Or maybe their face was just that way, she honestly didn’t know.) But it was worth a try. “What about Fall Out Boy?” she had a few of their songs on her phone. 

But they were equally as impassive to that, providing no reaction whatsoever as the song played. She slouched, huffing in defeat. Strike two. 

Sliding into place once again, Michael suggested with a smirk, “What about J-Pop? I mean, it’s from Japan and slightly obnoxious, it’s a perfect fit for you!” 

“From Japan?” wondered Christine at what was obviously an inside joke of some kind, but her question went ignored as Skip scowled at Michael for the comment. 

Meanwhile Christine had abandoned the small resource of her own music and had taken to Youtube to find _something_ they would like. “Maybe something instrumental would be better?” she suggested, searching up a random classical music mix, and passing that over to the short teen who just about to start up an argument with Michael. 

Loosely holding the device, their grip firmed as they listened to the music play. It was certainly better than the last few options. There was a depth, a layeredness that they could enjoy in this piece, and they listened more intensely than they had with the previous few attempts. 

“Oh! This kind of music sounds much better with headphones, hold on!” She shuffled through a few disorganized shelves, scratching her head as she searched for the item in question, muttering to herself as she did, and finally found them in her bag and handed them over to Skip. 

“Ooh, those are nice,” commented Michael, self-proclaimed headphones expert.

“Yeah! I got them at this one store in the mall--” 

Squip ignored the two as Michael and Christine launched into an animated discussion about different brands and stores, and started looking through the Youtube recommendeds on the video. They had “liked” the classical music that Christine had shown them, but it still wasn’t exactly what they thought they were looking for. But it made sense that if they followed a path of similar music, they would find it eventually. 

They clicked on and then abandoned a fantasy soundtrack, clicked on and paused momentarily with a mountain ambience video, before quickly dismissing that as well. Finally, after a chain of three different ambiences, they stopped in their tracks when they got to a heartbeat with white noise. They were filled instantly with a sense of familiarity. Between the distant chattering sounds and the consistency of the heartbeat, it almost exactly replicated the sensation of being in Jeremy’s brain. The simulated atmosphere of activation and proper functioning had an immediately soothing effect for the old supercomputer. 

When Michael and Christine finally tuned back into what Squip/Skip was doing, the two were surprised to find them listening intently to something on Youtube. 

“Hey, you found something?” exclaimed Christine gladly.

Slipping the headphones off of their head, they replied, with the closest thing to a pleased expression she’d ever noticed on them, “Yes, I believe I have.”

“Yay!” she celebrated, clapping her hands and leaning over to see what they had ended up liking. Her grin quickly formed into a confused frown when she saw nothing more than a blank screen instead of any kind of album picture or anything. Michael leaned in as well and shared her expression though he was a little more disturbed. They both read the title of the video with confusion: _Heartbeat Sounds Ambience with White Noise_. 

"You know those videos are for babies, right?" remarked Michael, tipping the phone down in their hands to get a better look at the video. “And this isn’t exactly ‘music’.” 

“Michael! Don’t be mean,” criticized Christine, lightly slapping him on the shoulder as Skip, headphones now worn around their neck, swiftly lost the remotely happy look they had had. 

The red hoodied teen raised his hands placatingly, “Sorry, sorry,” he said to both Christine and Squip. Turning fully to the ex-computer he reassured, “Like what you like, man. Don’t let my dumb words stop you.” 

Despite feeling vindicated from Michael’s apology, they kept the music paused and handed the phone and headphones back to Christine. “I believe this will work just fine at making the quiet bearable,” they told both teens. 

“Yay!” cheered Christine, jumping positively and briefly throwing her arm around Squip in a quick side-armed hug before perching back on the couch. Before they could even react to the sudden physical contact, Christine’s whirlwind of a mind was already thinking other things. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she added, “Ooo! You know I just thought of something. _Writing_ helps me a ton when I’m freaking out. Maybe that could help you, too!” 

They thought to their logs, and nodded. While logging for something other than daily observations was unusual, they could see where there might be benefits in it. Christine had turned out to be full of helpful suggestions. 

The rest of the day passed pleasantly enough, though it did nothing to answer Squip’s questioning of how Christine was the way she was. Being human did not grant any useful insight into how she could be so unique. All the same, she was as Christine as ever and Squip ended up enjoying their time spent hanging out with her and Michael, any echoes of their original anxiety left far behind. 

During the car ride back, Michael wore the same satisfied smirk. “See, tic-tac? Don’t you feel a lot better now that you’ve hung out with people?” 

“Don’t say that as if I couldn't have figured it out on my own, Michael. I’m a highly advanced AI built for understanding social interaction. I would have gotten to it.”

“That’s a weird way to say ‘Thank you for inviting me over for fun stuff, Michael, you were totally right’.” 

“Tch,” they hissed dismissively, leaning moodily against the car window. There was an expectant pause, before they heaved a whooshing sigh and finally relented, “Thank you. This weekend would have been...fairly difficult, without your assistance.” 

“There you go!” he remarked brightly, looking over to them with a cheeky smile while his hands stayed on the car wheel. 

“Michael, keep your focus on the road,” they warned instinctively. 

“Pshh,” retorted the driver, though he did exaggeratedly turn his eyes back to the front windshield. “Nah, but seriously. You’re welcome.” Conveniently, just as the exchange ended so did the car ride, as Michael pulled into the Heere driveway. 

Just as Squip was getting out of the car, he added at the last second, “If you need help again, I’ll be here. And Christine, too, I bet. You don’t have to be by yourself if you don’t want to be.” 

Well. They didn’t have anything smart to say to that. Only one thing came to mind. “Thank you, Michael.” 

Pointing at them meaningfully before he left, he ended in parting, “Play your weird music, write in your diary, you’ll be fine.” 

More dryly, they said again, “Thanks, Michael.” 

“My pleasure,” he smirked, driving away. 

Squip was left alone once again. Only, this time, they had a way to handle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo that was a chapter. 
> 
> I don't know what I'm doing, yaaayyy. 
> 
> Ack, I feel like this was so baaad, I’m sorry. I’ve never written Christine before so I didn’t want to do too much of, like, actual substance? with this part. Ugh. 
> 
> But on the other hand, this chapter was important because it’s serving as baby steps for Squip to develop their own interests and hobbies, which will really take off from here. (But not in this particular fic, later.)


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, forgot about posting the epilogue! Sorry about the late upload, folks.

Jeremy rushed into his house that Sunday afternoon, a few hours later than he thought.  _ Stupid traffic  _ he thought to himself as he closed the door behind him. 

“I’m home!” he declared aloud, dropping his backpack at the foot of the stairs as he looked up the staircase. 

“Hey, Jer, welcome home!” replied his dad, walking into the living room to meet him. 

“Hey, dad,” he said, waving shortly. 

“How was the trip, sport?” 

“Eh. You know. School, but outside. Was everything ok here?” 

“Erm, yeah I guess so,” his dad replied, but he looked confused even as he said it. 

That didn’t exactly inspire confidence. Picking his bag back up, he dashed up the stairs towards his room, hoping that he hadn’t made a mistake. Squip was probably freaking out. They panicked just when he was at school, how could he have thought this was a good idea? 

“Hey, I’m back!” he reassured as soon as he had thrown the door to their room open, fully expecting Squip to be in some stage of panic. To his surprise he was met instead with the unexpected image of the Squip sitting on their bed with headphones on and journal (sorry, “log”) sat open on their lap, to his relief, not looking freaked out. 

Seeing him, they quickly slid the headphones off and stared at him judgmentally, “You are late,” they said in their usual disappointed deadpan. 

He scoffed, but he was relieved that everything apparently went alright. “Guess that means everything was fine here. Looks like I was worried for nothing,” he replied, tossing his bag down onto his bed. 

Setting their phone and headphones aside and closing the journal, they answered,“For the most part, yes. I found ways to manage,” giving Jeremy a side-eyed glare they added dryly, “I’m glad you had so much confidence in me.” 

“Hey, precedence proves I have a reason to worry,” he defended, being reminded immediately of the last time Squip had been left alone too long. 

“Wow, ‘precedence’? Such impressive vocabulary,” they snarked, smirking. Internally, they were relieved he was back, and unharmed, a knot of tension fully unraveling for the first time since he had left. The music and writing had helped a lot to keep the panic at bay, but the  _ knowing  _ that he was here and safe truly set their nerves at ease. 

At that, Jeremy finally heaved an annoyed sigh, retorting, “Shut up.” Squip’s smile softened as things apparently fell back into their usual dynamic, glad things were back to normal. 

And, obligingly for once, they did shut up for the moment, making surprisingly little commentary as Jeremy went about unpacking his things. The last shirt thrown into his dirty laundry basket, he sat back on his bed and asked, “So, you really were ok?” 

“Yes. It was fine,” they replied, nodding. 

He narrowed his eyes skeptically, and they amended, “Alright, so it was fine with some assistance from Michael. But, I made it successfully through the weekend without panicking,” they ended proudly, crossing their arms over their chest in satisfaction. 

“Well, that’s good to hear,” assessed Jeremy, laying down in his bed, drained from his busy weekend. Yawning, he added, “After a whole weekend, having a few classes on your own should be a cinch.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, is that. 
> 
> In following stories, separation anxiety is still going to be something that Squip has to deal with, but they’ve pretty much crossed the hurdle on it, so it won’t be a main focus of the stories after this. Things get more fluffy (for the most part) from here on out. Hope you enjoyed this story, leave kudos, comments, etc, see you next time. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, hope you like the story so far, leave kudos, comments, etc, see you in the next chapter. 
> 
> If you have questions about this AU feel free to ask! I have a lot of ideas kicking around that I can’t always work into fics and would love to explain more if anyone’s interested. (you know just saying)


End file.
